Episode 48

An abandoned observation station drifted in the void. A mere hundred meters in diameter, this tiny speck of junk continued its lonely vigil over the cosmos long after its original purpose had expired. To be precise, it had died once, only to be resurrected by the eccentric Dr. Arjimov.

"This is Rockboy. Data chip secured. I’m heading back now."

Marl’s voice crackled over the comms, sounding entirely too casual for someone floating in a tin can. She was piloting the Rockboy, a work ship launched from one of the two destroyers currently tailing the Plum II.

"Copy that. Try to hustle, if you don't mind," Teiro replied.

His eyes were glued to the radar screen. Eighteen points of light were crawling toward them, ticking closer with every heartbeat.

It had been two hours since Marl started the recovery op. They’d expected a quick "smash and grab," but reality had other plans. The observation gear was ancient, and decades of cosmic wear had turned the access panels into stubborn slabs of metal. Data boxes wouldn't budge, chips were jammed tight, and high-voltage wires—stripped of their components—dangled like lethal spaghetti throughout the interior. That Marl had managed to get the chip at all was a testament to her being a literal wizard with machinery.

"What’s the status out there? Are they still coming?"

"Yes, Miss Marl. The targets are maintaining their intercept course," Koume answered. "High-energy signatures are constant. However, four ships seem to have tapped out along the way and have come to a halt."

Marl let out a frustrated groan and throttled toward the Plum II’s yawning docking bay. She practically dove into the ship while still suited up, immediately slaving the Rockboy to autopilot and sending it back to DD-01.

"Mr. Teiro. I am receiving an identification signal from the fleet," Koume reported. "Surprisingly, it’s accompanied by a warning signal."

Teiro snapped his head up. "A warning? For what? We’re just standing here!"

"Indeed, Mr. Teiro. I doubt this observation data has any market value. Perhaps they are extreme observation enthusiasts?"

"That’s too niche even for this galaxy, and you know it... Dammit. Fine, let’s go to combat stations just in case."

Teiro signaled the two destroyers to go on high alert. They responded instantly, flanking the Plum II like loyal guard dogs. Through the external monitors, Teiro watched the slow, mechanical crawl of their turret bays sliding open.

"Plum II to all units. Do not fire unless I give the word. We’re prioritizing a clean getaway. Get the overdrive devices warmed up."

"[DD-01: ACKNOWLEDGED.]"

"[DD-02: ACKNOWLEDGED. ROCKBOY RECOVERED. READY TO MOVE ON YOUR MARK.]"

Teiro sent a quick confirmation and initiated the overdrive sequence. He was curious about what the mystery fleet wanted, sure, but he wasn't "risk-my-life" curious.

[OVERDRIVE: ACTIVATING]

The pre-warmed engines kicked over instantly. The Plum II and her two escorts vanished into the warp in perfect synchronization, aiming for the exact same exit vector. It was a maneuver that usually required years of academy training, but thanks to the fleet command knowledge hard-coded into Teiro’s brain, he pulled it off like he was parallel parking a sedan.

[OVERDRIVE: TERMINATED]

The three ships reverted from streaks of light back into solid mass, coming to a dead stop amidst a lingering pale-blue afterglow.

"Maintain course and formation. Normal thrust for the next hour."

Once he confirmed the escorts were intact, Teiro pinned the Plum II’s throttle. Since the lighter destroyers had better acceleration, they simply throttled back to match his pace.

"Koume, what’s the particle density like at the next waypoint? Can we jump again soon?"

"One moment, please," Koume chirped. "The concentration is more than sufficient, Mr. Teiro. We won't even need an hour. I estimate we can jump in thirty minutes."

"Sweet," Teiro muttered, nodding to himself.

Unlike the civilized sectors of the Galactic Empire, outer space was notoriously stingy with the particles required for overdrive. Teiro wasn't a scientist, so he didn't care about the 'why,' but apparently it had something to do with the distance from black holes. According to Koume, eighty percent of the empire's drive particles were churned out by the massive black hole at the center of the galaxy.

Makes sense, I guess. If we could warp everywhere, nobody would bother building regular engines.

He’d had that thought the first time they were forced to cruise through the void. He figured that since particles could be synthesized artificially, the "Wild West" of outer space would probably be full of jump gates in a few centuries.

"Ugh... I’m back. I haven't done work that delicate in ages. I’m dead," Marl groaned as she trudged into the control room. She looked like a squeezed lemon as she collapsed into her pilot’s seat.

"Nice work. You were in there a while. Everything okay?"

Marl shook her head. "It wasn't a 'problem' per se, but the internal layout didn't match the Doctor’s blueprints at all. Everything was layered weirdly, and the chip container was shoved into the back like someone had forced it in there. Is the Doctor just sloppy, or what?"

She started reclining her seat. "Can I nap? I’m napping."

Teiro gave her a silent thumbs-up and switched the comms from the bridge speakers to his headset.

One down. Three to go. Hope the others are this 'smooth'... Maybe I should catch some shut-eye too.

The Plum II was blessed with an AI navigator who never slept, and Teiro trusted her with his life. Now that the adrenaline spike had faded, a heavy, comfortable fatigue began to settle over him.

He was just starting to drift off when Koume’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"Mr. Teiro. I am detecting an overdrive space reservation. Shall I reject it?"

Teiro bolted upright, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. "A reservation? You mean someone is trying to jump to our exact coordinates?"

"Affirmative, Mr. Teiro. The origin point is our previous location. It is almost certainly the fleet from the station."

"Those guys again? Are you kidding me? Who are they? I don't even know anyone out here!"

"You say that as if you have a vast social circle elsewhere, Mr. Teiro."

"Hey! Why are you treating me like a loner all of a sudden!?"

Teiro barked back at Koume’s sass while frantically punching the 'Reject' command into BISHOP. The Plum II immediately vented anti-drive particles, saturating the local space to block any incoming warps. It was a standard safety feature to prevent ships from accidentally tele-fragging each other, but it worked just as well as a "No Trespassing" sign.

"...Okay, that should hold them. But seriously, what gives? This is some high-tier stalking."

Apparently, the mystery fleet wasn't packed with top-of-the-line warp stabilizers. Teiro breathed a sigh of relief as the Plum II’s modest anti-drive burst successfully slammed the door in their faces.

"Mr. Teiro. I am detecting active drive particles at long range to our rear. It seems they have opted for the long way around. This is officially 'stalking' now."

Teiro let out a pathetic little yelp. He leaned into the comms and whispered into Marl’s ear at max volume: "Maaarl-taaan! You're so cuuuuute!"

"GYAHH?! What?! What’s happening?!"

"Sorry, Marl. Things just got a lot less fun. Those guys are still on our tail."

"Wake me up like a normal person next time!" Marl shrieked, but her hands were already flying across her consoles. "They’re still way back there. Did you block their jump?"

"Affirmative, Miss Marl," Koume answered. "To attempt a space reservation without so much as a hail suggests only two possibilities: they harbor hostile intent, or every single one of their communicators is broken."

"And the odds of eighteen ships having broken radios at the same time is zero. Can we get a detailed scan?" Teiro asked.

The data splashed across the screen before he even finished the sentence. Marl was already on it.

"Twelve frigates, six destroyers. No response to our ID signal. Teiro... these are 'enemies'."

"Right," Teiro said, his voice dropping an octave as he began the combat checklist. Then, he paused. A realization struck him, cold and heavy. "...Enemies. We’re talking about humans, right?"

He stared straight ahead. Marl looked at him, her expression unreadable.

"Yeah... they’re probably human."

"............"

Silence filled the bridge. Teiro looked down at his hands and let out a long, weary sigh.

"Well, I knew this day was coming eventually..."

He looked back at the screen, glaring at the eighteen dots representing eighteen ships full of living people. The thought that he might have to kill them made him feel sick to his stomach, yet strangely, the feeling wasn't as overwhelming as he’d feared. He didn't know if that was his own soul talking or the military-grade "Override" conditioning doing its job.

But regardless of his morals, he had something more important to protect than the lives of a few persistent strangers.

"...Are you okay?" Marl asked softly.

Teiro realized he’d been staring at her. He shook his head, clearing his mind, and began deploying the combat function groups across the BISHOP interface.

"Tell them to try it," Teiro growled. "If they fire a single shot, I’ll make them regret ever finding us."